Chapter 7. Personal Responsibility [incomplete]

A passerby can easily mistake our school for a culinary one past noon thanks to the mind-melting heat. Riddle me this: a quarter into the glorious XXI century with all its nanotechnologies or what else is hot today we can’t cool the top floor to a human-friendly temperature. Just to get through the late evening now, and it’ll be over, thankfully. The dorms are colder, especially at night. Sleep-eat-study-sleep. About time I’ve gotten used to the schedule.

Forty-two days passed since the incident, as the press called it. Police came and gone like the school became their base of operations in the first days, or so people say. Myself, I enjoyed another lifetime in bed getting saved which left little time to gawk. Credit where credit’s due though, these Genetesis doctors know their deal. After bringing me back to life they threw in a bonus for my pacemaker. No idea what kind of magic happened to it, but it feels easier now at the cost of four short scars between my ribs. One of the surgeons said they swapped the battery for a modern one and lightened the whole device. How they got the latter done with only endoscopes to work with is beyond me, but falls well under the jurisdiction of “Genetesis, world leader in tomorrow’s medical solutions”. A simple mortal would have a heart attack just looking at their price list though, I’m sure.

And like that, life’s back to normal. Almost. There’s one tiny piece of the world missing, making me think a lot, like right now, after classes, like every other workday at the same time. The only difference is that today a hand with a note appears on my table. Judging from the rare ink stains and minimalistic nail care, that’d be Shizune that’s been with 3-1 today, and the rest of her body implies as well, although for a second there, I doubt if it’s really Hakamichi or an elaborate fake unable to perform her famous slam. Her note clears things up a little.

“20:30 auditorium 2nd floor. Come.”

That’s her typical order all right. Before I automatically grab the piece of paper, she picks it up and methodically tears it to little pieces. Boy, does she hate this way of communication. She even slips out of the room the second she’s done, which with her height requires dangerously wide steps. Gotta remind Daigo to lecture the girl on decency, or that dog’s never going to do it himself. Granted, he’s less of a horny prick now that society’s lost him to a woman, as Takashi loves saying. The odd part is, their relations changed little, well, publically, at least. He did join the Student Council to help her out on top of his other duties, go figure if he cares for her or not. And though Lilly acts like a mute when needed, it’s easy to guess why she gets less work than them. Not that anyone complains. Her joining at all made big news on campus. The tale goes like Satou and Hakamichi grew to hate each other’s guts as they entered the Council last year to learn the ropes, and only the upperclassmen there kept the team from splitting. Our principal got happy out of his pants, of course, since with Lilly last year’s apprentices were finally doing their job again. It was imperative to continue the line of inheritance, he said on our last meeting, and even despite a tragic loss of one of the people properly trained for the task, the rookie Hakamichi picked proved capable and worthy of a separate mention.

Ha. Of course he knew I was effectively slacking off lately, so his praise qualified more as encouragement. I just couldn’t take it anymore, couldn’t keep doing the same work in the same room as… before. Couldn’t pretend that nothing changed. Really though, has it? Sure, many students have drawn their conclusions from the incident and are now acting on them, but life still goes on for almost everybody. Almost. People seem to remember each other by their accomplishments at Yamaku, not by their lost opportunities. Life isn’t cheap here, it just comes and goes faster than elsewhere. Those two guys from last year’s 2-3? My classmates still remember them, but don’t dwell. Isn’t it for the best, I ask myself. It really is. Bro shouldn’t cry when I’m gone, I’d rather see him smile looking back at the dumb stunts we’ve pulled together. I know that, but can’t let go myself. And I realize the reason somewhere at the back of my mind, but it’s very uncomfortable.
An unpleasant monotonous tune cuts my musings short. Good. The alarm function’s been my friend since I started drifting off like this. Time tends to evaporate nowadays, I mean, it’s already been an hour since our last bell. Jesus, that means more than forty minutes since Shizune’s note. Someone’s going to turn angry as all get out if I lag any more.

“Nakai,” a clear voice calls from behind the moment my feet touch the hallway floor.

Great, another setback. I keep walking.

“It is very rude to make a girl chase you. Very rude indeed.”

“I’m a gigolo like that, Satou.”

The white clad figure catches up at last. Sometimes her green skirt looks out of place between that white blouse and white stockings. Err, I mean colorwise. Any skirt would look out of place on her body.

Oh for Christ’s sake, these remarks are supposed to be a defense against excessive questions, not legitimate thoughts.

“No you are not, silly. Please be a little more serious.”

“Sorry.”

I feel like an asshole a lot lately.

“Will you be present tomorrow?”

“Yeah. Any new participants?”

“I’m afraid it will be just Hanako, yourself, and the troublesome one.”

“Shizune should show some respect, at least.”

“Oh, she’s happy enough to get me out of the council room.”

Like right now.

“Bet their productivity will break the charts this month,” I try out a little irony. Miserably, it seems, because Lilly has to stop to chuckle.

“Can you possibly be jealous, Nakai?”

“Of her? Hells yes.”

“Of course,” wait, was that a faint hint of red in her face just now? “You have become much more loutish lately, especially with your jokes.”

“Have I? Maybe it’s my norm.”

She quickly reaches down and takes my hand, sensing a right turn to a staircase ahead. An action that’d make my blood boil, maybe literally, a couple of months ago, now feels bothersome. Step. Step. Step. Satou is graceful like a European princess of old descending to the main floor of her castle to greet her guests to a ball. Wish she could look in a mirror right now. She’s probably aware though, like of many things, sometimes hard to notice with both eyes healthy.

“I know you can do better. If you keep hiding in this tough guy shell, you’ll only end up bitter. I’d rather not witness it happen again.”

“Want to travel the rest of the flight rolling?”

Too bad her chevalier’s outright subpar.



The melting track greets me with a pouty little girl’s face looking up at me.

“Remember out promise?”

“No late arrivals,” I recite as a sacred oath of some sort. “Ran here on the double.”

Emi Ibarazaki, a legless runner. Our school has a whole special category of these rule breakers, often successful due to their extreme persistence. This one’s unique in a sense. Despite her tiny frame and often childish attitude, she somehow manages to make me work out without any visible effort on her side. We must be kindred spirits or something. Pfft.

“Okay, you did,” she notices sweat streaming down my face. “Which means more stretching for you! Don’t you dare strain yourself with that faulty heart.”

“Lordy, can’t I get more distance instead?”

“No.”

She knows damn well I hate stretching, and that I’ll do all of it.

Just like that, our training session begins, with no chat nor extra words at all. Maybe this false sense of solitude was the reason why I left Miki’s guidance. Her group meant listening to her and Molly talk all the time, and while it would be bearable by itself (hell, I had no problems with it on my first week here), they tried to fix me. To their honor, they tried smart and hard. Only it never worked and they never stopped. Ah, what’s the use of lying to myself, I just couldn’t take missing her. Others had little to do with the problem.

Emi patiently waits for me to finish my exercises, including the penalty she issues as laconically as possible. Sixty seconds to catch a breath, and off we go on her mark. My program for today: run a kilometer, walk a half, repeat until in Time’s 100. Her program: too worn out to care under this sun burning like a meteor in the atmosphere. Probably some superhuman training again. If she’s number one in the school with her height and no legs, well, can’t call it any other name.

So yeah, I started slacking off back then, and no one said a word out of pity. Without running, without the Council I was just killing days staring into empty space, until one particularly bad evening chance took me to the track for some reason. Can I join? Yes. And I was back on track. Lap after lap, pointless motion felt more like the same old staring, if a lot more efficient at time consumption. The nurse never complained, although he probably intended to couple us from the beginning. There were some implications.

Now we’re walking away from the track together in silence, like best buds who have long exhausted the daily quota of casual conversation. Easy Friendsmaking 101, Loneliness & Luck Edition.

“Why’d you join me?” she asks out of nowhere, making me start.

“I thought we didn’t talk.”

“I thought some Shizune rubbed off on you.”

“Hah,” it’s funny because she loves talking. Poor Daigo the interpreter.

“So?”

“So what?”

“Don’t ‘hah’ me.”

“I wanted to run.”

“No.”

“Why?”

“Miki.”

“I wanted to run with the best.”

“Wrong.”

“Are you sure?”

“Too weak.”

“Maybe it pleased my ego.”

“Running with that cuckoo with no friends.”

“Oh come on, you have to have a load of friends and a truck of guys after you with this pretty face.”

“That’s what they always say.”

“And?”

She just shrugs.

“I run.”

“See, there’s your problem.”

“How about yours?”

“Will you leave it be?”

She usually takes hints pretty well, I swear.

“No.”

“Okay,” I exhale, “here’s your precious answer. The others asked too many questions.”

“Now I do. Will you quit again?”

“Yes,” if this goes on like with Miki, I damn right will.

“Lies.”

My initial shock over her cockiness gives way to a surprised realization of how right she is. I could laugh, but then I’d be the cuckoo.

“All right, another ans- wait, no, how did you guess- actually, why are we even having this conversation?”

If I’m still not crazy for being so upset, of course.

“Because I saw your face at the start line today.”

What.

“It was a familiar one,” she continues. “Wanna see?”

“Show me.”

Her happy smile lasts a few short moments. Can’t honestly call something that leaves the eyes relaxed a smile though. Another second, and she throws her head back to display what she means.

I don’t understand. This is her own regular starting expression, with the trademark predatory grin present, eyebrows slightly raised, and emerald eyes wide open. On a proper inspection, there’s something I’ve never noticed before. Never been a face reader, but it’s like she’s somewhere between lost, scared and confused, and maybe something else not quite defined.

“Ey, kiss already!”

That’s what we get for staring at each other like wild cats in the soft rays of the dying sun this close to the dorms. I turn around and scare the underclassman away with a single look; kind of mastered the art lately. Then it hits me.

“Yes, just like the face you made right now,” Emi’s animal grin has somehow turned into a victorious one without changing shape by the time I look back at her. “I see it in the mirror every morning.”

“The hell does my face have to do with anything?”

“I can read this one like a book. It’s a face of someone running away.”

Oh Lord Jesus On A Stick.

“You guys conspired to gang up on me with your lectures today.”

“Hey, I’m just saying. No need to get your nuts rustled.”

“Innocent little girl, anyone?” I make a weak attempt to derail the conversation.

“Listen. ‘away’ is no destination. This road leads nowhere.”

“Does it really? If Misha’s our topic, then get to it already.”

“You want it straight,” Emi clarifies for whatever reason.

“Sure as hell do.”

“Okay. I had two girls I could call friends at Yamaku. Now there’s one.”

Wait. Damn, should’ve noticed their cheerful run-ins like at the festival.

“Sorry, didn’t mean rea-”

“Doesn’t matter,” she waves it off. “I’ll need one thing from you.”

“As long as it’s legal.”

You go boy, that was the perfect moment for the perfect joke. Shameful.

“Don’t become me. For Misha. Pro-,” her voice breaks off for a second, contrasting the everyday smile of a face, “promise?”

You can hear the sun crackling in the dead silence that follows.

“Sounds difficult.”

“No shit.”

“I was at fault too, you know,” I try to explain softly.

“Still clinging to the most retarded sentence of the year like a prayer, I see. No one could change what happened, period. You almost died trying.”

If she only knew the weight I carry. She never will, of course, so there needs to be a little lie on top of all honesty.

“I’ll think about it.”

“You do. She’d want you to.”

She would. We enter the nurses’ hallway silent once again, one little bit closer to best friends.

The man calls her first, breaking the routine. She finishes pretty soon, at least, and the end of their chat leaks through the door as she leaves.

“I said you’re free, no butts,” that’s his voice.

“Any other girl would be afraid of you giving Nakai seduction lessons in private.”

“Good thing there exists a fearless one.”

“Your vibes wouldn’t work on a pig, old man.”

“Worked on your mom.”

A smiling little girl lights the hall up with her presence after a ringing high-five.

“Bye-bye!” she yells running out of the building, back in kid mode once more. A fine actress in the making.

“Come in, come in,” Nurse calls. Man, why do we get so little time to relax in the nice cool air of the basement floor?

“Close the door,” he asks plainly.

The examination starts out cold, missing his usual failed puns and friendly attitude. He also puts a lot of effort into keeping both eyes open, which requires enough mimic tension to make him look a decade older. If this is about what I think it is, then good bloody timing, I’ve almost started worrying.

“Heartbeat as good as it gets, pressure a little higher than desirable,” he voices his conclusions over.

“We had a little argument on our way back.”

“Is that so.”

He makes a remark in the journal, then quickly checks if anyone’s out in the hallway. Click, the door secures our privacy.

“Hisao Nakai, 3-3, QT stndrome,” the cat lover starts.

“That’s me.”

“Our ginger friend sent you a present,” he reaches far into the desk.

“Not a moment too late, right?”

“Give me a break, they only finished this morning.”

“Could’ve sent a word. I understand, I really do, just put yourself into my shoes here,” I counter his objection. “I’m human, too.”

The item he’s been searching for, a black plastic card with a stylized silver DNA fragment, Genetesis logo, finally appears on the table.

“Of course. Of course you are. Just try and understand that everybody else is. You think I’m not nervous?” he raises his voice.

“They told you the results, so you’ve got no reason to be.”

“Told me what? They never tell me a thing! Hisao, leaks are against the regulations. I get worked up to hell over the trivial instances because of the secrecy, now imagine how I should feel about this. This is big.”

“No kidding,” I snort reflexively. “They said history was happening.”

“Indeed, more than you understand. If they succeed, that is.”

“They wouldn’t start without a hope.”

“Like every other time. Hope’s too little in our business, Hisao.”

“Just pass me the key already.”

Nurse sighs and strokes his little finger.

“Are you completely sure, Nakai?”

“Didn’t start this whole mess to back out the last second.”

“Remember, every time you doubt yourself, I will doubt you twice.”

“I’d like to see you try,” I retort, taking the card and turning away to leave.

“Easy enough, having seen this all a couple of times. It always starts with hope.”

Even as I leave, the Nurse drops another line.

“You started nothing, Nakai!”

Maybe he’s right. Maybe what I pride and curse myself for isn’t my choice, but the truth is that I need this piece of plastic, and any made up justification to get it will do.


***


Somewhere far away in the mountains, the silence is heavy like a forging press tonight. Not an insect dares to pierce the chill air with its ever-cheerful screech under the black star-laden sky, not a wind makes a noise in the grass. The closest road sees no drivers. One of those nights, you know.

Yet serious businessmen find regular serenity treacherous. In a meeting room underground, protected by their own sound dampening devices, private guards and rusted barbwire around a decommissioned airstrip up above, they discuss matters few outside their company should know with no protocol.

“Last but not least, the Ariadna program is live once again with one unit hopefully operational this week and another one underway, ETA 2-3 months depending on the circumstances R&D has no power over. This is my part for today, gentlemen.”

The wealthy looking young man sits down under judgmental looks from the others at the round table. After a while of uneasy suit rustling, a squat guy stands up.

“With all due respect to our promising colleague, a meeting to effectively tell us about one program’s progress sounds like an overkill.”

“Are you not happy to meet up with your family, son?” an old man replies from across the room. His seat, as always, has the gravity of the center of the room, despite looking just like any other one. What makes it into an extraordinary one is the overwhelming respect the man reads in the attendees’ eyes.

“I wouldn’t dream of such insolence, master.”

“We understand the accounting’s worries, make no mistake. Answer me now, did we not swear to see our plans throughout together?”

“We did.”

“Did all of us not swear to fully dedicate ourselves to the purpose?”

“We did,” the short man takes his public shaming resignedly.

“Then you must understand that now is the time for unity instead of petty squabbles. Sit. We will personally ensure that the company receives an appropriate amount of monetary support this month. Deficits will not be reached.”

The old man carefully checks his neighbors’ faces while the fatso sits down, visibly pleased.

“Now that we have the instruments needed to create the necessary distraction, let’s move on to other matters. What does our head of security have to say about the circumstances R&D has mentioned?”

“Father,” the unremarkable man stands up momentarily, “some of Yamaku’s more influential ‘patrons’ have taken an interest in the investigation concerning the recent local developments.”

“Will they start pulling their kids out?”

“Highly unlikely,” a slant smile crosses his face. “Police will calm them down on the ministry level. The kids, on the other hand, are reacting in a way exploitable to Ariadna’s benefit if used wisely. I assume R&D’s capabilities are ready for unexpected breakthroughs, of course.

“It is, but an early start can deny us an opportunity to use the first unit’s data for improvements,” young researcher replies from his seat.

“The timing will be discussed elsewhen, children. Anything else our security has to report?”

“UN an NATO negotiations have been a success so far.They require several months to prepare their troops. Planning and paperwork will take less. Your connections will not be required.”

“Very refreshing to hear at the end of a long day.”

“Also, we have all but confirmed that Dyson’s monitoring team at Yamaku has not been evacuated, but replaced with competent professionals. The former one has been sighted in Tokyo.”

“So he knows where to look now. He better like theatres.”


***

I praise whatever’s governing the storms up in the sky for today’s cool, almost cold night before entering the building. The stars, those frequent breaches in the worn black blanket spread over heavens, blink one last time, surrendering their place to a black ceiling. Looks like exactly zero lights are on on the entire floor.

“Lock the door, quick.” a whisper comes from behind me along with immediate clanking.

“Hey guys, what’s goinmmm!”

Somebody puts a hand over my mouth, another pair secures mine behind my back with a grip of steel. What the hell kind of business did Shizune drag me into?! I really don’t need to die tonight, oh no I don’t. The person right behind starts pushing, and from the soft sensation on my elbows and ribs I take a wild guess it’s the vulture herself.

“Take a right, dude,” the whisper sounds yet again, now from the side, as we stumble forward.

Okay, so the stallion’s in on the assault too, say what. I feel my unsteady heartbeat ruse from fear. It’s going to be hilarious if I die from an attack before they intend me to. Yeah, fucking funny as shit. Why today, for chrissakes, why does it have to be today out of all days?

“Stairs ahead.”

Stairs, of course, we made a deal to meet a floor above, haha. Here’s one. Here’s another-woah there, easy on the tripping, stair, can’t see you in the dark. Let it be an idiotic prank, oh please let it be one.

We somehow immediately enter the announcer’s booth, and the bright light makes me squint. Looks like I logged out for a minute on the stairs, whoa.

“Were I religious, I’d call you a ghost,” says a voice like Josuke’s.

Frankly, he must be right.

“Talking’s allowed, by the way.”

I find my mouth free in a moment; Hakamichi steps away as well. As my vision clears up, I realize there’s a single bulb lit up in the whole room, even though it feels like twenty. The whole band appears before my eyes at last, seated at the table some of us drank at so long ago. Maeda and the sunglasses guy avoid my stare.

“Hi”, Daigo voices his shorter half, who would explode with laughter if she could, by the looks of it. I want to hit her sometimes. Like eighty percent of the time.

“Hi yourself, bitch, you damn near sent me to the hospital again.”

“That’s a rude thing to say to a lady. Dude, you all right? Dude?”

Perfect time to notice they did something dangerous. Both should consider a police career. My heart catches up with the events, sending a fiery steel spike down my spine. At least the pain’s better than it was before Genetesis’ intervention.

“A-Ok, joker.”

Shizune signs something with a slightly more concerned look and gets a smack on the back of the head for an answer. Of course, Daigo receives an immediate punch to the kidneys. These two will make an exemplary family one day.

Parting myself from the wall and finding my way to an empty seat proves to be a challenge. Even the best tech in the world is powerless against the state of semi-paralysis at times like this. The first curse escapes my teeth only halfway through, a fact that wins a regional competition in stoicism if there is one.

“Seriously, should we call a doctor?”

How stupid can one man be, again?

“Call yourself a psychiatrist, yeah.”

“Told you it was a bad idea,” Takeshi remarks moodily.

“That’s rich coming from the first accomplice.”

“The main asshole gets an excuse.”

Blessed be the reliable solidity of a chair.

“Let’s get this over with,” I invite, feeling a bit friendlier, “I don’t have all night.”

“Agreed. Rin needs a visit before the curfew too,” Chiehara’s harsh voice sounds for the second time this damned evening.

“Can’t it wait until midnight, you crazy beasts?”

“A call to Ghostbusters can’t. We are extremely concerned about the supernatural activity at the Student Council.”

Not every day Shizune gets shut up like this.

“About that,” I interject before the conversation sinks any deeper in the toilet, “I’ll need the key tonight.”

Four heads turn my way.

“What? Can’t a man use it for some thinking once in a while?”

“Sure you can, it’s just been a while since you’ve talked about anything Council. Right, Shizune?”

The four-eyes slides the keys across the table drilling me with a refracted stare so hard it’ll leave a hole.

“Tell her she can keep watch at the door,” I spit out.

Of course she will still suspect me of every mortal sin possible, but won’t spy, at least.

“If the catfight’s over, let’s talk business,” Maeda proposes, obviously bored.

“Right. Look, Hisao, we spent some time thinking about what happened a month ago and what it brought to us. Some changes speak for themselves, some aren’t as obvious, and it just so happens that me and Shizune have some to a more detailed picture.”

3-1 rep keeps looking at the girl throughout his speech. If there’s anything I dislike the most about Daigo the interpreter, it’s this weird mode where it’s near impossible to tell their words apart.

“Okay, I’m all ears.”

“Long story short, the official investigation came to a stall.”

I can only smile at his big revelation.

“What’s so funny?”

“See, this here brokenhearted martyr already knows half of your speech,” little Van Gogh wannabe states it simply. “Short story shorter, your mad revenge ideas got us after you’d grown out of them. We’ll dig around and see if there’s any way to aid the police.”

“Oh come on, dude,” Daigo reacts to my smile turning bitter, “you went farther down the road.”

“Wanted to go, never went. We can’t influence serious affairs through any means.”

“That’s why my and her families joined in.”

Now that’s news.

“I see how a publisher can help, but what does her old man do?”

“He’s an… honest businessman,” the awkward pause travels from Hakamichi’s signs to Kurosaki’s voice.

“Businessman my ass.”

“This again, Takashi?”

“In any case, I’m staying out of this five-dollar teenage detective story,” I end another potential off-topic argument.

A split couple of seconds of silence ensue, filled with more search for the right words to say than surprise, judging by the guys’ faces. Maeda takes the lead again.

“Knew you wouldn’t support funny business right off the bat. We’re here mostly to inform though. Reps will work with their resources, I’ll hang around in town and listen, so should anything happen, you know the reason.”

“And that’s what all the secret meeting with the lights off fluff was for?”

“Correct.”

“You’re out of your minds.”

“Thanks, knew that much.”

“So what’s Chiehara’s role?”

“Muscle if they need some,” he answers himself.

Another awkward pause.

“Yeah, dud, so that’s pretty much it. We’ll keep you posted,” Daigo summarizes.

“Had to risk my health for the sake of conspiracy, eh?”

“Stress poses no trouble compared to your stunts at the track.”

“Certainly less trouble than your schemes. Whoever planned an attack on Genetesis, a monopoly in a 120 million strong country, must be either really smart or retarded. Both options are dangerous.”

“Don’t sweat, we know. Just hit us up if you learn anything, aight?”

“Yeah, sure.”

“Sweet.”

We spend more time talking about this and that, and I can’t shake the feeling that someone should stop them. The sheer level of public reaction and media coverage has made a riot in a small town a political matter long ago, if it wasn’t one at the beginning. Similar protests rose in a few cities in the West, Humanity Front gained quite some publicity and even a counterpart called Progressive Evolution or something like that. The police can’t finish their investigation without risking an uprising from of the sides of this conflict that waited for any excuse to blow up. Now politicians and CEOs need to solve it, and where those get involved, ordinary citizens should flee for their own good. Last I checked, I was an ordinary citizen.

We finally shake hands and leave. Cool evening air calms me down somewhat, but not enough to wash the worries away. I can only hope their parents understand what kind of game they’re playing, because it sounds like my friends themselves don’t. In nine chances out of ten though, Yamaku Administration will take action before anything goes wrong. We’ve got surveillance everywhere, after all, may as well put it to good use.

I sneak into the main building through an emergency exit, cameras be damned. It only matters if people see me. A few lit up windows indicate supplementary lessons in progress and clubs working overtime, all easily avoidable by a side staircase, usually empty at this hour. On the third floor, high on luck and out of breath, I hastily enter the Council room, turn the lights on, and leave, locking the door behind me.

Alibi status: forged. The way back downstairs can’t possible feel longer, because this time I’m using the main staircase. Thankfully, no one’s leaving right now by some miracle, and the security guys, two instead of one last month, face outside. Thanks to whoever manages heavens up there.

There’s something like a closet under the staircase, some space secured with walls along both railings, and what looks like a sliding door painted over many times in the middle. It’s difficult to say for sure, since no one’s ever seen it open, or so the belief goes, but the consensus among the students is that there’s an old service elevator to the basement there, powered down and put out of commission. A solid theory, considering how close it lies to the truth.

I press the card from Nurse into a slightly elevated square of the wall where, according to the theory, the call button once was, and our dead elevator proves to be perfectly operable in a second. A weird one it is, sure, but nothing regular will get me where needed.

“Close Sesame,” I whisper. It closes with an ever so quiet beep. Look, everybody, Nakai’s a poser.

Concrete painted faux wood on the outside to fit the staircase, a box of glass and stainless steel on the inside. The elevator feels as alien as the hospital at first, which makes sense, but doesn’t calm any nerves. I place my fingers on the sensor pad where the buttons would usually be. It displays buttons all right for Genetesis staff, while people with one-time passes get launched to their designated floor after a fingerprints check. Tonight the screen displays “-9”. Gravity takes a dive for a moment, which dinner takes to rise up to my throat. Yeah, screw you too, food. At least it settles back down when we stop.

I strongly dislike two entities in this life, Hospital and Uncertainty, and am heading, as of now, under a sign stating “Floor 9 – Post-Surgical Treatment” into a corridor full of blurry expectations. To no one’s surprise, this section is short and empty compared to other floors. Out of all the people that filled the augmentation forms in during the last month, few have their body parts ready for surgery by now, and even fewer will ever undergo anything major enough to warrant any time in this wing, waiting in deep chemical sleep for their metabolism to normalize. Makes me wonder more about-

“This way, Hisao!”

Seeing Martin’s careless smile eases my mind a little. It means there is few bad news. It means everything went as close to okay as it could. It means I can run down the rest of this hallway to room 1 that lies at the very end of it for some reason, run just as carelessly and full of hope.

“Is it really allowed to come to this level in dirty shoes, Marty?” I put little thought into the question.

“Of course, stupid. Trust the professionals.”

He’s still smiling, God bless.

“Hi. Hello. Good evening.”

Doc’s progress in Japanese must’ve been grand enough if he can determine a whole list of hails appropriate for the situation. Seriously, he can be Marty’s superior and a top-class medic all he wants, but talking English only isn’t cool enough in our country.

“Good evening, Mr. Hayes.”

“Just Irving from now on, please.”

Our handshake feels heavy as ever. Doc’s seen action as a combat medic somewhere between the start of his career as a neurosurgeon and today, and it shows. Burly, especially for his modest height, he gives off an impression he won’t fit into the next doorway that’s twice his width. Wouldn’t want to ask a man like that how he went from a promising specialty to active service, would you?

“Is everything in order?” I summon every last drop of my English knowledge to confirm.

“A grade wonderful. Come with us, if you will.”

No door troubles in his own domain, mind you. We pass deeper into the light-green room 1 through a thin partition.

“Is this..?

“Yes,” Marty softly pats my shoulder, “but we have to go over important details first.”

Kneeling at the only object in the bare cube of a room, I try to guess its looks and function. Less than a meter wide, roughly two meters long, height unknown due to a layer of fabric hanging down to the floor from it. Shape’s so unique I’d easily call it a casket under other circumstances. The younger guy starts explaining in a quiet voice.

“You must be full of happiness right now.”

“Not a question, really.”

“Understandable. Today is a very important day for you and the whole academy, regardless if they know it or not. However, keep in mind that we here are no magicians yet. First time you pull the drape down can feel shocking.”

“Can’t be worse than earlier this month,” I feel euphoria evaporate with every word. “I voted for this to happen, too. Now way it’ll scare me now.”

Marty lets out a sigh of defeat.

“Doc said to warn you, I did. He also said the weight of choice wouldn’t help. I’ve never been in your shoes, let’s be honest. My whole adult life I’ve been studying or working in medicine, and people become desensitized to some things in our line of work. Doc, however, he’s seen a lot more than both of us together. Listen to his advice, please.”

Satisfied with my silence, he turns to his superior.

“I’ve done my job.”

“I’ll get the lights.”

One voice sounds in the ensuing darkness disturbed only by the dim light coming from the object, and I’m surprised to realize it’s my own.

“May I?”

“Go ahead”, Hayes allows with a terrible accent.

A moment of hesitation passes, and I pull the cloth off in one go. There she lies, enveloped by life support and power cords, protected from the outside atmosphere by an airtight glass case that really looks like a casket. She may have lost her curls and a few centimeters in all measurements, she may look like a robot more than a girl, doesn’t matter, she’s still the same classmate I spent that first week with and couldn’t leave alone after the incident.

“We tried to preserve as much as we could, but with that kind of injuries you have to choose what to save quickly,” Martin speaks up again, but I can barely hear him.

I know everything he has to say. They tried to save her. They couldn’t save all of her. They had to choose between her death and insane, unprecedented amounts of augmentation. They had had to decide on an official stance before the parents arrived, and the guy that cared a lot about her felt like the right person to ask what she’d herself want.

My words didn’t matter that much, most likely, but I can’t shake the feeling of responsibility for my selfish intent back then. Or my responsibility for what Misha has become, for that matter. Hayes was right, I’m not ready for this, so why can’t I stop staring, mesmerised by the imitated muscles like I was once captured by Molly's? Meers’ explanations sound fuzzy and the glowing glass cage starts blurring. I don’t really remember much after that up until turning the lights off in the Council room. Right, the Council is trying to dig up anything to prevent another attack from happening. Maybe I can help, after all. For her. This won’t be a game though, so the only student involved should be myself. I can handle this much.

After the familiar system messages all appear on my tablet, I send a message to a certain user.

<HNK> Phoenix, I need a favor.